


Inferno

by MizJoely



Series: Heat Rises [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/M, Gen, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-26 06:15:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 2 of "Embers" in my Omega Molly/Alpha Sherlock universe. Now that they've Bonded, what next?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wickedwanton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedwanton/gifts).



Sherlock wasn't stupid enough to bring Molly to the Holmes family estate, although it was closer than his flat in London. The one he currently shared with John Watson...who would be more than a bit disconcerted by the outcome of Sherlock's latest visit to the House of Heat he'd favored up to now.

He stole a glance at Molly as she sat next to him in the passenger seat of his rented car. Her face was pressed to the half-open window as she drank in the sights and smells of the world she'd been denied for far too long, and through no real fault of her own. Watching her enjoy herself warmed a part of himself he hadn't realized had long ago frosted over with ice; the wall he'd built around his heart, the one his friends John and Greg had started to tear down and his landlady had always ignored, was rapidly disintegrating and all because of the petite woman sitting next to him.

Feeling his eyes upon her – or perhaps feeling the first stirrings of the emotional bond that would connect them for the rest of their lives – she turned and offered him a shy smile. He returned it with a great deal more confidence, although that wasn't necessarily what he was feeling at the moment.

He hoped the Bond would take a while to fully impact the two of them, not only because he'd always valued his privacy, but also because he was feeling a twinge of uneasiness at the thought of laying himself bare to another person in so intimate a fashion. And not just the emotional Bond, but the idea of being sexually involved with someone on more than just a casual basis was almost as terrifying. Not that he would ever admit to feeling fear, of course, but in future no matter what face he put on, Molly would always be able to see through it to the man behind the mask.

Still, in spite of the sense of trepidation he was currently feeling, he knew he would do it all over again if given the chance. Molly deserved much more than the life she'd been condemned to before he found her. With that in mind, he returned his eyes to the road but cleared his throat before announcing: “We will, of course, appeal your parents' convictions. They've already spent far more time in jail than they should have. In spite of the personal differences my brother and I might have, his work as a 'minor' member of the British government should be of use to us in this matter. And he will no doubt be convinced to help if I threaten to make our new family relationship public,” he added, unable to resist the sneer that had entered his voice.

He and Mycroft had been as close as two brothers with seven years' difference between them could be during their childhoods, but their temperaments had proven to be too volatile for that closeness to continue into adulthood. Oh, they still cared for one another, he supposed, but at this point Mycroft seemed to care more for his career than just about anything besides his sons.

“Thank you.” Those softly spoken words were the first ones Molly had uttered since leaving the facility behind. He could hardly begrudge her her silence, since he was more than prone to them himself – to the point where John frequently felt obligated to question the usability of his vocal chords – but it was nice to hear her voice, he found.

Nice. How unsettling to think of himself as appreciating something “nice”. It was far too mundane, too boringly normal, but then he thought about their unorthodox “courtship” and his mental equilibrium was reestablished.

The rest of the ride passed in a combination of periods of silence punctuated by questions on Molly's part and answers on his. Where were they going. Where did he live. What did he do for a living. Would his friends understand why they'd Lifebonded after just meeting. Would she have to worry about “Warden” LeFoy exacting some sort of Machiavellian revenge on them.

That last question had caused Sherlock to let out a bark of laughter, quickly repressed as he realized Molly wasn't trying to be humorous. “Even if she were so inclined to repay the humiliation she had heaped on her today at the hands of one of her Omegas,” he replied after schooling his features into something closer to seriousness, “what exactly do you think she would do? We're Lifebonded, and I doubt her thirst for revenge will go so far as death threats or kidnapping. No, any attempt to sabotage us in the press or elsewhere will ultimately misfire. And if it didn't,” he added with a feral gleam in his eyes, “I'm sure something showing her for the manipulative, vindictive bitch that she really is could easily come to light.”

“But only if she starts it,” Molly remonstrated, much to his surprise. “I mean it, Sherlock. I know I have no right to tell you what to do...”

“You're my Bondmate, Molly,” he interrupted testily. “You can tell me whatever you feel like telling me, including to piss off if I cross over any boundaries you feel sacrosanct.”

“O-okay,” she replied, subsiding into silence as she appeared to mull over his words. When she spoke again, it was in a more determined tone of voice as she took up the thread of their earlier conversation. “But I really mean it; I don't want you to go after her unless she starts something first. That place...yeah, it was a prison to me but the other women there...they seemed to really like it. If someone else were put in charge, or if they were moved...things might not be as nice for them.”

So. His Bondmate wasn't just an independent woman trying to forge a life for herself against all odds; she was also something of a crusader for other members of her oppressed class. Good. It stirred the long-slumbering embers of his earlier passions...as well as more recent, much earthier passions. 

She was, in spite of her unusual life and flashes of understandable temper, a perfect Omega; giving and loving. The exact opposite of him, which was, from what he understood, exactly as it should be. They appeared to have the makings of an ideal pairing; the question was, would he drive her away once she'd been exposed to more sides of him than had been revealed to her so far?

Would she come willingly to his bed, and not just out of gratitude? Judging by her reaction to him when they'd first touched and the sharp tang of desire he'd roused in her during the Bonding, that question was undoubtedly going to be “yes.” It was just a question of when. Yes, they'd Bonded, but that didn't necessarily mean she would be ready for him to take her virginity anytime soon.

They reached the outskirts of London just as the sun was setting, an apt metaphor for his troublesome thoughts, and he diverted from Baker Street just long enough to bring her to a few shops and pick up some necessities. 

She appeared to both revel in and fear the simple freedom to pick out clothes that she liked, to purchase such small things as a toothbrush and comb and feminine items. A quick stop at a chemist's for various other necessities, including an oversized square bandage for her throat and some antiseptic cream. He kept it to a minimum, however, and not just because it was late in the evening. 

He knew all too well how overwhelming contact with others could be, especially if it had been some time since such contact had been allowed. And she was still an Omega, one who had never been out in the world when not in disguise. There were a great many things she was going to have to get used to.

One thing he was determined to do for her, however; he would find a way for her to legally achieve her degree in spite of her status as his Bondmate. Yes, that woman had become a teacher in spite of being an Omega, but only after radical surgery altered her body so that she was biologically almost indistinguishable from a baseline Human. Molly deserved a chance to stretch her intellect, no matter what her status.

He left the car parked in front of the entrance to 221B Baker Street, opening the boot and pulling out Molly's new belongings while she studied the place she would spend the bulk of her time from now on. He'd already alerted the rental company and someone was on their way to pick up the car. Yes, it was illegal to leave it parked on the road but he and the local police had an understanding; as long as it was gone within an hour, it wouldn't be towed. He had Greg Lestrade to thank for that bit of clemency.

He glanced up, then did a double take as he saw that a light was on. Oh. John must be home then. He frowned; had he told Molly about having a flatmate? He couldn't remember, they'd discussed so many things during the two-hour car ride, and then the shopping, of course...

“Is he home, then? Your flatmate?” Molly asked, nodding up at the window before looking over to Sherlock. There was a trace of anxiety in her expression, and he supposed she might find the idea of meeting another new person a bit daunting.

“I imagine so, unless he's left the light burning,” Sherlock replied, ushering Molly ahead of him and digging out his keys. He left the keys to the rental in the ignition; he had people watching the vehicle even if no one knew that was what they were doing, and anyone who tried to steal the car before the rental people got there would be in for a rude awakening.

He opened the door and waited for Molly to enter, then shut it behind them, pausing for a moment in indecision; should he inform John of his change in status first, or Mrs. Hudson? Perhaps, he concluded it would be best if he spoke to John first; judging by the scent of his landlady's “herbal soothers” she was not in a fit state for so serious a conversation.

Decision made, he led Molly to the stairs to his flat.


	2. Meeting John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Sherlock arrive at the flat. How will John react?

The door to the flat opened and John looked up from his laptop, surprised that Sherlock was home so early from his visit to the House he frequented. Usually he stayed until late in the night; once or twice he'd actually slept over, when he'd gone too long between visits and had even more energy than usual to work off.

His surprise doubled when Sherlock entered the flat and was immediately followed by a young woman.

His nose twitched and surprise became shock as he realized the young woman – attractive in a shy, unassuming sort of way, with really lovely auburn hair hanging far down her back – smelled very much like an Omega. He looked automatically for her Alpha or chaperone to follow the other two, assuming there was a case involved, and was once again shocked as Sherlock closed the door behind her.

“Molly, this is John Watson, my flatmate and best friend,” Sherlock announced in that crisp, don't-even-try-to-interrupt-me way he had. “John, this is Molly. My Bondmate,” he added with an air of defiance laced with uncertainty very foreign to his usual arrogant tones.

“Bondmate,” John repeated, slowly rising to his feet, his eyes darting between the two of them in continued disbelief. “I'm sorry, did you just say 'Bondmate'?” he repeated as he approached them, stopping several feet away and bringing his gaze to meet Sherlock's. He couldn’t help it; his nose twitched as he took in his friend’s scent, which seemed very much to be intermingled with that of the Omega…which meant…

Sherlock nodded, confirming the impossible words he'd just spoken, although John’s heightened olfactory senses were offering up more than enough evidence that Sherlock wasn’t making some kind of macabre joke. “Bondmate,” John repeated, finally looking straight at Molly. The Omega who had done the impossible, gotten Sherlock “I'm-no-ordinary-Alpha” Holmes to Bond with her. A slow grin spread across his features and he reached out to take her hand in his, knowing how dangerous an attempt at an embrace could be right now, no matter how innocently offered; Sherlock might not be an ordinary Alpha, but he was still an Alpha, and some instincts were harder to override than others. “Nice to meet you, Molly. Congratulations!”

He transferred his attention back to Sherlock, releasing Molly's hand and reaching for his friend's. “How long has this been going on, Sherlock? You never even hinted that you were seeing the same Omega all this time, let alone considering taking her as your Bondmate!”

Uh-oh; he recognized that expression, even if Molly's gasp of surprise hadn't been enough to warn him. “Um, Sherlock, this is something you've been planning, right?” he asked, back to being bewildered again as Sherlock's gaze went completely opaque, the way it did when he either wanted to hide something or was about to reveal something no one wanted to hear.

“I neglected to fully introduce Molly to you, John,” Sherlock said. John took note of the way his hand sought out Molly's, giving it a reassuring squeeze, which helped lower John's sudden tension. Something was off, but whatever it was, it wasn't some game Sherlock was playing with the Omega by his side. “Her name is Molly Hooper. You might recognize it from the rather gaudy headlines of two years ago.”

Headlines...John's eyes widened as the name finally clicked. “You're the Omega who went to Oxford!” he exclaimed, examining her more closely this time, and not just as an attractive female. “But how did you two meet? How did this happen?” He was completely bewildered and only kept himself from babbling out more questions by calling upon his medical training. 

There was a bandage peeping from beneath Molly's high-necked blouse, corresponding no doubt to the tiny flecks of blood on the corners of Sherlock's lips. So not only Bonded, but very recently Bonded. “Right. Bonded.” He nodded once, then moved back to his seat and sank into it without taking his eyes off the other two. “Sherlock, perhaps you'd care to explain how this came about?”

It was, as expected, an amazing story. John felt as if he'd been run over by a lorry at the end of it.

Sherlock Holmes was Lifebonded to Molly Hooper, the Omega who had shocked the world by pretending to be a Beta for twenty-one years before being exposed by her dorm mate – a woman who'd struck John as a particularly vindictive little Alpha bitch who basked in the limelight for as long as she could get away with it. And the punishment that had been meted out to Molly's parents...disgraceful. Absolutely disgraceful. He'd felt that way at the time and still felt that way now, two years later. In fact, once the story was finished being told, he wasted no time in telling her that.

“Thank you, John, you don't know how much it means for me to hear you say that,” Molly replied. She was a soft-spoken woman, petite and quite pretty, exactly the type he'd always been attracted to, but he was relieved to discover that all he felt toward her was a sort of brotherly protectiveness. Whether that was because she and Sherlock were already Bonded or fell under the nebulous realm of attraction and its sometimes baffling manifestations, he had no idea – and no desire to explore. He liked his throat in one piece, thank you very much.

As his medical training caught up with what he'd just been told, however, he felt the blood drain from his face as his eyes snapped up to meet Sherlock's. “Wait...you Bonded without Knotting?” he blurted out, delicacy and good manners completely waylaid by medical concern.

Sherlock nodded, the only sign that he was affected by John's unusual rudeness being a slight widening of his eyes. Molly, on the other hand, blushed a furious red as she stuttered: “It's...there wasn't time, and I've never...I'm still...”

John sank back in his seat as he continued to stare at the couple sitting across from him. Dear lord, it was even worse than he'd thought – and it had been bad enough, physiologically speaking, before that particular revelation. “You're a virgin,” he said, and there must have been some hint of accusation – unintended, of course – in his voice, because Molly's expression, which had been wavering between confused and nervous, suddenly hardened into something very unfriendly. 

She stuck her chin out in a manner that reminded him of Sherlock at his most stubborn and intimidating and said: “Yes, Dr. Watson, I am. Not that it's any of your business.”

Oh, he understood exactly what Sherlock had seen in her, the fire that underlay the quiet exterior. Not a typical Omega at all, but then, her history argued against that anyway. That, however, was a matter for later contemplation; there were much more urgent things to deal with at the moment. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile, shooting off a rapid text to his sister. “I'm going to stay with Harry for the next week,” he announced, rising to his feet. “There's plenty of food in the fridge, and Sherlock, for God's sake remember you'll both need to keep well hydrated, not just Molly.”

He expected a biting comment from Sherlock on not wasting time stating the obvious; what he didn't expect, however, was for his flatmate to give him a puzzled stare and demand to know what John was talking about.

_Oh, no. Please, please don't let this mean that I have to spell it out for the two of them,_ John thought, panic mounting.

Another look at the two wary, puzzled faces in front of him gave the answer that yes, yes he was going to have to spell it out. Bloody _hell_. “Sherlock, Molly, do you mean to tell me you don't know what happens when Bonding takes place without sexual intercourse?”

Molly flushed even redder; even Sherlock looked vaguely uncomfortable – but both offered up mute head shakes in the negative, so John plowed ahead calling on every ounce of medical objectivity he could muster. “Look, generally Bonding occurs either during or immediately after Knotting, frequently during a shared Heat. With me so far?”

Now came the impatient look he'd expected from Sherlock earlier, the heavy sigh and signature eye-roll indicating that yes, thank you, he knew that much and do-go-on-with-it-John. “Right.” John took a moment to clear his thoughts before continuing. “Right. When Bonding occurs outside of those parameters – which is very, very unusual, maybe one out of ten thousand Pair Bonds happen under those circumstances – it can bring on a spontaneous Heat. But even rarer is what can happen – no, what _does_ happen, always, 100% of the time – if the Omega has never had sex before. That brings on what's known as a Precipitous Heat. Even if the Omega has just come out of a Heat cycle, even if they're on suppressants or not due for months, the Bonding itself alters the body chemistry and the Omega goes into Heat within twenty-four hours. Sometimes less, closer to twelve hours. But always no more than a single day after Bonding.”

It would have been almost funny, watching the panic bloom on Sherlock's normally detached features, if it hadn't been such a deadly serious situation. Well, perhaps “deadly” was stretching it a bit, but it certainly was serious. And there was one last question that had to be asked before he headed up to his room to pack. His mobile pinged while he was formulating the question; he ignored it as he spoke up. “Look, Molly, at the facility where you were staying...”

“Being kept,” she bit out, some of her inner fierceness returning to the fore at the mention of a clearly hated place.

He nodded, as much because he agreed with her as to keep this necessary but embarrassing conversation moving along. “Right, that place – I presume they kept up your birth control even though you haven't, erm, done anything to require it?”

“Weekly shots,” she replied with a shiver – of remembrance at uncomfortable jabs, or because of something else? Another question destined to remain unanswered, at least for now. “The nurse gave me one just yesterday.”

John nodded. “Good, that's good. Should hold you through the next few days, but I recommend a visit to an Omega clinic as soon as things...settle back down for you. There are a few nearby, I'll text you the info, Sherlock, yeah?”

Sherlock seemed to come out of the daze he'd fallen into and gave a jerky nod in response to John's prodding. It was rather unnerving to see a normally confident – no, use the right word, _arrogant_ – Alpha appearing so unsettled, but there was nothing John could do about the situation. From this point on, it was up to Sherlock and Molly to sort things out.

He glanced at his mobile, pleased to see that his sister had answered in the affirmative. Good, so he had a place to stay until it was safe to return to the flat. He'd send Mrs. Hudson a text as well, telling her not to disturb Sherlock for any reason short of a bomb threat to the building – and Lestrade would have to be warned off as well.

All of which could wait until he'd thrown some things into his suitcase and was safely ensconced in a cab to his sister's house on the outskirts of London. He looked forward to the visit mostly because he hadn't seen his nephews in a few months. Clara really was a great influence on Harry; he was glad they'd worked things after Harry's stint in rehab when her drinking had gotten out of hand a few years back.

He mumbled something along the lines of “good luck,” winced at his poor choice of words, then dashed up to his room to pack. Although there was a very good chance Sherlock and Molly would have another day to adjust to this new reality – had he remembered to tell them that even if they had sex right now it wouldn't do anything to stop the Heat, no, he'd have to do so before he left...what had he been thinking? Oh, right. Even though it was more likely to be another day before anything happened, the last thing Sherlock and Molly needed was himself hanging about. Even a Beta could be perceived as a threat under these circumstances; once the hormones really started messing with Sherlock's body chemistry, John wanted to be nowhere about.


	3. Rising Heat

**Inferno: Rising Heat**

Molly's eyes were on her hands, which were clenched tightly together in her lap. She’d always known, being an Omega, that one day she’d find herself at least temporarily attached to an Alpha. That she would eventually, suppressants or not, succumb to Heat and Knotting and losing her virginity.

She’d even expected, after today’s incredible whirlwind of events, to go through all that with Sherlock, her Bondmate.

She just hadn’t expected any of it to be so soon.

They hadn’t discussed it; there were so many other things that needed to be thrashed out between them, that sex had actually seemed like the least item on the list of priorities. Introducing her to her new home. Meeting John. Even eventually meeting Sherlock’s brother, Mycroft, whom he spoke of with such disdain, and his Omega Bondmate and two sons had seemed of more importance than when she and Sherlock would initiate a physical relationship.

How had she not known about this Precipitous Heat thing? She’d studied, she thought, everything there was to know about her biology once she was old enough to understand what was going to eventually happen to her. Her parents had found a great deal of information for her that, while not strictly forbidden, was certainly kept from the general public. And her studies at Uni, as a pre-med student, had allowed her access to databases and medical journals she might otherwise never have been allowed to see…and yet none of them, not one, had even breathed the possibility of such a thing. Spontaneous Heats, yes, but nothing about what might happen if Bonding was precipitated outside of a sexual relationship.

Clearly it was as much a shock to Sherlock as it was to her. When she finally managed to raise her eyes to try and meet his, it was to find that he’d sunk further into his seat, legs sprawled in front of him in a parody of a relaxed pose belied by the tension radiating from his body as he gazed into the middle distance over his raised and steepled fingers. When she tried to catch his attention, it was like he wasn’t even there.

She’d risen from her own seat and begun pacing a bit in indecision when John Watson came clattering down the stairs, suitcase in hand. She watched as he skidded to a halt in front of Sherlock’s chair, frowning before transferring his gaze to her. Immediately he offered up a reassuring smile as he walked to her side. “It’s something he does, goes into his mind – mind palace he calls it, nothing modest about Sherlock Holmes! – and sorts through his memories. It’s some kind of organizational thing,” he added in what was clearly another attempt to be reassuring. “He’s probably looking to see if he ever heard of a Precipitous Heat before, or else he’s just reviewing what he knows about Pair Bonding. He’ll come out of it soon enough. Just…try to be patient, yeah?”

Molly nodded, accepting the brief, awkward hug John offered her before stepping back and once again offering her what she knew was meant to be a reassuring smile – although right now nothing would reassure her about anything. “I know this must be a bit overwhelming, but speaking strictly as a medical professional – and as Sherlock’s friend and, I hope, yours if you’ll allow it – you two shouldn’t wait for the Heat to come on before…well, you know.” He flushed a bright red that Molly found endearing in spite of her dazed and jumbled thoughts. “It’ll be a sight easier on you if you don’t have to worry about the two of you being completely out of control for your first time. It won’t stop the Heat from coming on, but it will make things…better. I think.”

He fell silent after offering that bit of advice, gave her another quick hug, then hurried to the door to the flat. “I'll send Mrs. Hudson a text telling her not to disturb you, and Lestrade as well – Sherlock's told you about them, yeah?”

“Yes, I’ve told Molly about our landlady and my relationship with DI Lestrade.” Sherlock’s voice came unexpectedly from behind the two, who turned to face him with equally startled expressions on their faces. “Thank you for your advice John, do give your sister my regards. Don’t you have a cab to catch?”

His words were spoken in a rapid-fire monotone, somewhat off-putting to Molly’s ears, but John simply nodded as if it was exactly what he’d expected to hear from his friend, opened the door, closed it behind him and rattled down the stairs. Molly heard the distant sound of the exterior door opening and closing, and once again raised her eyes to meet Sherlock’s stony-faced gaze.

His eyes softened a bit as she nervously nibbled on her lower lip, her hands twisting around one another as she struggled with what to say or do.

Sherlock spared her from any sort of decision making by rising to his feet and taking the few steps necessary to bring him directly in front of her. He held out his hand. “Shall I show you around your new home, Molly?” he asked, his voice hoarse with some unknown emotion – embarrassment, unease, discomfort? Molly had no idea how to read him when his expression remained blank. She nodded, took his hand and allowed him to bring her around the flat.

The tour, such as it was, ended at his bedroom – their bedroom, she supposed it was now. She felt a flush spreading across her face and torso and prayed it was just another flash of embarrassment rather than the first sign of her Heat coming on. That thought gave her the courage, as they stood in the doorway and regarded the room’s sparse furnishings – bed, dresser, wardrobe, desk and chair – to finally speak. “Is it possible…do you think he could be wrong? Or mistaken? Should we wait and see what happens before we…I don’t want you to have to do anything you’re not ready for or don’t want to,” she added in a rush.

Sherlock gazed at her with a raised eyebrow, lips quirked up in a definite expression of amusement. “Shouldn’t that be my line, Molly? After all, you’re the one who’s never experienced intercourse before.”

When put so clinically she’d have thought it would sound sterile; instead, Sherlock’s deep baritone made it sound like the filthiest things she’d ever heard, and deepened the flush on her skin. She felt a familiar sensation in her groin; desire, stabbing outward. Desire she’d only ever satisfied – if one could call it that when only partial success was ever achieved – on her own.

He saved her from having to answer him by adding: “Trust me, Molly, I’m not being forced into anything. And no, to answer your first question, I don’t believe John is wrong or mistaken. He’s done extensive research into Omega biology since becoming my friend, although he stopped sharing his findings with me several years ago. I…may have been a bit harsh with him after my father’s death and my mother’s unfortunate reaction to the breaking of their Lifebond.”

So that was why he hadn’t mentioned his parents yet. Molly felt a surge of horrified sympathy; losing a Bondmate was excruciatingly difficult for the surviving member of the Bonded pair. “Can’t any of the new drugs do anything for her?” she asked, impulsively laying her hand on his arm as her eyes met his. Some of the pharmaceuticals developed during Alzheimer’s research had proven effective in lessening the mental aftereffects of a broken Pair Bond in some cases.

Sherlock shook his head, a fleeting expression of regret crossing his face as he replied: “No. She was too far gone by the time the more promising drugs became available. I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done for her now.”

“I’m sorry.” Molly knew it was ridiculous to apologize for something that she had no control over, and half-expected Sherlock to snap at her for attempting such a thing, but all he did was smile softly and give her hand a gentle squeeze.

He'd held her hand twice now since their arrival, but for some reason, this time the skin-to-skin contact brought another one of those electrifying jolts to her body. She felt the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck literally rise up as she gazed into his eyes, darkened as she knew her own must be with arousal. Goosebumps erupted across her flesh and her breathing became a series of ragged gasps as her heart sped up and her knees trembled.

His grip tightened and he reached out with his other hand to steady her. As soon as his fingers closed around her upper arm she realized what was happening. No, her Heat hadn't started, but their Bond had strengthened, allowing her to feel his emotions as well as her own, and vice versa. He wanted her, it wasn't just a kindness on his part, some peculiar sense of obligation or simple moral outrage at the situation in which he' d found her. He actually wanted her, as much as she wanted him.

Suddenly, losing her virginity seemed less like a chore to be undertaken and more like a long-anticipated event – Christmas and all her birthdays and trips to the fair all rolled up in one.

Without thinking, she tiptoed up, looped her arm around his neck, and kissed him.

oOo

Sherlock felt a wave of heat flash over his body as soon as Molly's lips, so soft and sweet, met his. Thought fled, his mind mercifully stilled as he unconsciously pulled her tight against his body, his hands and arms rearranging themselves until she was enfolded in his embrace. There was no change in her scent to signal an oncoming Heat, so he had nothing to blame except his own desire.

Even the fact that he'd gone over six months before visiting the House from which he'd rescued Molly and hadn't actually accomplished what he'd gone there to do in the first place couldn't explain his overwhelming reaction to her. Yes, she was his Bondmate; yes, he could feel her desire for him radiating from her very pores, deepening her scent and raising her pulse and affecting her in all the ways physical desire was known for, but neither of those really explained his own response to her.

Further research into the matter was clearly called for. Later. Much, much later, when his mind could fully focus on such things. Right now all he could think about was how much he enjoyed the feel of her in his arms, how soft and warm she felt, how eagerly she met his kisses with her own. He slid his tongue along her lower lip, wondering exactly how much experience she had; there were many gradations on the scale of “Experienced” to “Inexperienced” and he was very eager to explore the differences between the two of them.

Sometime later – he wasn't sure how long, since the feeling of her mouth opening eagerly beneath his, her tongue just as eagerly assaulting his mouth in a manner that clearly showed she'd done this much, at least, sometime in her unknown past – he pulled his head back, gazing down at her, thoroughly enjoying the way her breathing was coming in short gasps, just as his was; the way her brown irises were almost completely occluded by her blown-back pupils, the sheen of sweat rising on her brow...

Oh. Shit. She was red and sweaty and all they'd done was kiss; surely it couldn't be, there'd been no signs when they entered the bedroom...

He sniffed, not bothering to hide the action from her, and his nose confirmed what his mind and eyes had already caused him to suspect: Molly's Heat was coming on, just as quickly as John had warned them it might.


	4. Conflagration Ignites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the Good Stuff...

It happened so quickly Molly barely had time to process the change in her body before Sherlock was dashing out of the room. Shit, her Heat had started, where was he going? She hesitated between following him and staying where she was, feeling the flush spreading across her body from her groin, radiating in both directions until even the top of her head and the soles of her feet were burning.

God, it had never come on like this before, not even the first one after she’d been taken off her suppressants. Her clothes were suddenly suffocating her, her feet sweating inside her flat-soled slides and thin socks. She shucked them off almost automatically, squirming as she glanced once more at the bedroom door, fingers fidgeting with the buttons to her blouse. God, the fabric wasn’t that harsh and scratchy when she’d put the blouse on this morning was it?

Even the bandage covering the wound on her neck was irritating her skin; before she realized she’d even touched it, she found it in her hands, balled up, and sought out a bin. There was a small one next to the dresser, she dropped the used bandage into and caught sight of her reflected self in the mirror.

She was bright red, with sweat beading on her forehead, her eyes wide, pupils blown, teeth worrying her bottom lip, entire body shaking with the onslaught of the Heat.

She couldn’t wait a second longer; she turned toward the door, her only thought to seek out her Bondmate and throw herself into his arms when Sherlock reappeared. He hurried through the bedroom door, arms loaded with packets of crisps and bottles of water, which he hastily dumped on his dresser top, heedless of the other items already haphazardly piled there. She breathed in the scent of him, a low whine of need escaping her throat as she tilted her head to the side and began undoing the buttons to her blouse, fingers scrambling madly to loosen the high collar.

They nearly collided as he turned to face her, lowering his head automatically in order to bury his nose in her throat while his hands reached out to pull her taut against his body. Even the sting of his flesh against her still-raw bite mark was a welcome relief to the rising inferno within, the sensation of flames licking her flesh relieved simply by his touch. The hardness of his cock against her groin and belly was a sweet torture, but her hands were trapped up near her throat; he was too strong for her to pull free of his hold and besides, why would she want to? They were Bondmates, she could feel his growing need tangling with her own, and knew that it wouldn’t be long before their bodies would be just as tangled as their emotions.

He batted her fingers aside, not bothering with anything so time consuming as unbuttoning her blouse, electing instead to simply rip them off. She shucked the blouse as he raised his head and brought his mouth crashing down on hers for a kiss that nearly caused her to come then and there, even with far too many layers of clothes still providing a barrier between them.

Her hands were free now, free to tug at his belt and undo the buttons and zip to his trousers, free to explore the burning length of his thickening shaft, pull it free of his pants and stroke it with her fingers. She’d never done anything like this before, had never gotten farther with any boyfriend than deep kisses, but instinct guided her where experience and intellect fell short. 

Sherlock growled as her explorations grew steadily more urgent, finally releasing her long enough for the remainder of their clothing to be discarded and for him to tug her to his bed, pushing her down on top of the duvet before covering her with his lean form.

The last coherent thought she had was simple and to the point as his mouth lowered to suck eagerly at each of her breasts in turn.

_Finally._

oOo

The smell of her was overwhelming. As soon as Sherlock reentered his bedroom and deposited the chips and bottled water on his dresser, he knew his ability to reason was going to be severely short-circuited for a while. Fortunately the situation hardly called for the use of higher intellect; no, for once in his life he was going to be forced to give himself over completely to his Alpha instincts, to surrender in a way he never had in the past.

He could feel Molly’s emotions; discomfort and a hint of nervousness but overwhelming it all her need for him, the lust coming off her in virtual waves that crashed into his own arousal. His dick was throbbing, harder than he’d ever thought it could become. Every other Omega he’d ever fucked faded into insignificance when compared to the petite woman in his arms (when had he taken her in his arms, when had he lowered his nose to her throat and began nuzzling the raw wound his teeth had torn into her throat, when had he begun kissing her…). Her scent was intoxicating, the honey and lilac and even the underlying hint of vinegar serving to fuel his desire.

Once their clothes were gone and she was lying beneath him, he regained enough control of himself not to simply shove himself between her legs and thrust into her. Yes, in her heightened state of arousal she would be almost completely unaware of any pain, but after he’d Knotted her and she’d been granted temporary relief from the frenzy of the Heat, the pain would no doubt return tenfold, and the last thing he wanted to do was have her endure the next several days in a state of severe pain whenever reason returned to her.

Although he’d never slept with a virgin before – even at the height of his drug use he hadn’t been so depraved – he knew the basics of anatomy, knew that the first time needed to be far more gentle than what an Omega could typically endure during a Heat.

With that in mind, holding on to the last ounce of his self-control, he nudged her legs open and slipped down so that his hands were resting on her thighs and his mouth hovered above her groin.

The scent of her Heat was even stronger here, the slick wetness impossible to resist. He buried his head between her legs, listening with part of his mind to her keening wails of relief as her hands scrabbled at the bedclothes and her hips bucked as soon as his tongue and lips unerringly found her clit.

She was soaking wet, the coverlet beneath her damp and no doubt about to be ruined, although he couldn’t bring himself to care, too delirious at the taste of her on his lips, the scent of her filling his nostrils and stirring every instinct he’d ever tried to suppress, bringing his libido raging into overdrive. He pulled his head away after it was clear that his tongue alone wasn’t going to be enough to fully prepare her for his eventual penetration; fingers were called for, at least two, possibly three. Not that he was any barnyard creature when it came to size, but she was so damned tiny he couldn’t help worrying about tearing her, wondering if she’d be able to take his Knot after all…

The feeling of her hands tugging at his hair snapped him out of his thoughts; he lifted his head, two fingers still pressed deep inside her (when had thought become action, he’d never lost track of himself like this before, although he found it intriguing rather than annoying) and met her gaze.

“Please,” she groaned, even as her hips continued to thrust against his fingers as they pressed against her internal barrier. “God, Sherlock, please…I need you inside me, properly, you’re killing me, please…”

Her words devolved into incoherent pleas as he raised himself above her, positioning himself with one hand before easing into her as gently as he could manage, self-control almost a thing of the past but not quite burned out of him by their comingled need and the scent of her Heat nearly driving him out of his fucking mind.

Within a few strokes control finally shattered, torn away by the feeling of her fingernails digging into this shoulders as he pressed his torso tightly against hers; her legs were wrapped just as tightly around his waist, her own movements urging him to drive deeper, faster, harder, although she couldn’t quite manage to actually speak the words he felt murmuring though his mind. The barrier gave way as she cried out her first orgasm, her entire body spasming and shaking around his. He felt his Knot growing, filling her, driving him to shallower thrusts but with little change in speed until suddenly he came completely apart, his cum surging into her in a hot gush, bringing her to a second climax as he his mouth sought out the gash in her neck and he once again sank his teeth deep into her flesh, sucking at the blood, deepening the Bond they already shared as they shuddered their way to completion.


	5. Immolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sparks continue to fly, with some inevitable confrontations and hurt feelings.

Molly was soaking in the bathtub, luxuriating in the ability to do so. At the “facility” she'd only had access to a shower stall; Sherlock's tub alone was worth moving to Baker Street for, she decided, dreamily resting her head on the broad rim of the old-fashioned claw-foot “monstrosity,” as Sherlock called it. He'd already informed her that he generally preferred a shower unless he'd strained muscles whilst on one of his cases, either for DI Lestrade or for private clients. She, on the other, hand, had already decided that she was only going to stand under the spray if she needed to wash her hair. Which she'd already done, earlier in the day. After she and Sherlock had Knotted for the first time.

She blushed just thinking about it, which was ridiculous; they'd already had sex twice today, as her intervals between Heats seemed to last roughly three hours at this point. After their second time Sherlock had insisted on drawing this bath for her, after pounding downstairs to demand a box of lavender-scented Epson's salts from his landlady. 

That memory brought another blush to Molly's cheeks; she'd had to catch hold of his arm and remind him to at least put on a dressing-gown before leaving the flat. It had seemed ridiculous for them to reclothe themselves between her Heats, especially not knowing if the intervals would continue to last as long as they had so far, or if they would gradually lessen before once again lengthening, as Sherlock's research into Precipitous Heats had shown they had the potential to do.

She was in awe of his computer skills, but she suspected there were many, many things about her Bondmate that she would find herself in awe of...first and foremost of which was his ability to completely satisfy her during a shared Heat.

“Stop blushing, Molly, it's a bit ridiculous at this point, don't you think?”

His lazy drawl caught her attention, and she turned her head to gaze up at him as he rested against the bathroom doorframe, grinning down at her from his superior height, but with a warmth that tempered any possible sting in his words. “You don't even know what I was blushing about,” she retorted, feeling the heat in her cheeks abating not one whit at the sight of his naked form.

He was all lean angles and planes and God, those cheekbones! She hadn't really had a chance to catalog all the lovely bits and pieces of him until now. How had she been so unbelievably lucky as to catch his attention, and keep it past the moments of their first meeting? What could he possibly see in her, plain, boring Molly Hooper...

“Stop it,” he said, more sharply this time. He entered the bathroom and knelt by the tub, running the back of hand across her cheek, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. She'd pinned it on top of her head in a messy bun that he claimed did wonders for her neck. “There's nothing ordinary about you, Molly Hooper, and believe me, I know the catalog of my own faults quite well. So stop comparing the two of us and wondering what I see in you. It's completely unnecessary, and far too late for us even if one of us regretted the Bond. Which I know neither of us does,” he added, leaning forward to punctuate his pronouncement with a kiss.

When the kiss ended, Molly stared at him, not bothering to hide her bemusement. “How do you do that?” she asked. “I mean, yes, there's the Bond so you and I can share emotions, but how do you actually get into my head and know what's behind the way I feel?”

“Deduction, the same way I recognize a violinist from a cellist by the patterns of their calluses. The same way I can tell the murderer from the person everyone else _thinks_ is the murderer.” He paused, looking just a little big smug as he added: “The way I can tell an extraordinary Omega from the masses and masses of ordinary, boring Omegas. Some facts are simply obvious.”

Molly bit her lip and lowered her eyes. “That is quite possibly the nicest thing anyone has said to me except for my parents.”

“Is it?” Sherlock sounded pleased. “Do please tell John that, will you? I don't usually get it right this soon after meeting someone, and never anyone I've just shagged.”

oOo

Oh. Not good. Not good at all. Even without the Bond Sherlock knew he'd just said something very, very wrong. Molly's soft expression had gone rather hard, her breathing had hitched, and her hands, which had been resting on the side of the tub as she leaned toward him, were clutching it tightly. “I've just spoiled it,” he said with genuine regret, settling back on his heels and running his fingers through his hair. “I do that, quite a bit, actually, just ask John. Say things that upset people even when I don't mean to.”

She gave him a forced, over-bright smile and leaned back in the tub, not meeting his eyes as she said, “No, really, it's all right. Don't worry about it, I'm just all hormones and instincts right now, you know how it is.”

One hand remained on the edge of the tub; before she could remove it, he caught it in his and waited until their eyes met. “Molly, you have to understand something about me,” he said. “I'm not exactly like other people. There are a lot of things – social conventions – that make no sense to me, and I have very little patience for any of it. But I do try not to hurt the people I care about. And in spite of the fact that we've only just met, I do care about you, and not simply because of the Bond. That,” he waved a dismissive hand, “that's just biology. Alpha and Omega and the impulse to procreate and to ensure that the offspring survives by any means possible, including binding the parents together to increase the chances of creating more offspring. You know all that, I know you do,” he rushed on as she frowned at him...but allowed him to hold her hand. Good, that meant she was actually listening to him, hearing his words – or maybe she was just feeling his sincerity through the Bond. Either way, she wasn't pushing him away or dismissing him.

He paused, as John frequently reminded him to do, not to just rush out his words, to try and watch for the subtle clues that the other person might have something to say as well. In this case it was no great hardship, since he actually was interested in whatever Molly had to say to him. Perhaps he should explain that to her as well?

Perhaps not. She was nodding thoughtfully, still allowing him to hold her hand as she considered his words (again, or the emotions behind them, possibly both, difficult to discern based on the few visual clues she was offering him). “You're not good with people and emotions and social interaction, got it,” she finally said with another nod, more as if affirming her understanding to herself rather than to him. Then a smile blossomed on her lips, and he had to hold back a very strong urge to kiss her as she added: “So what you're trying to tell me is that sometimes you'll say stupid things like you just did, and I should try to be patient with you and not take it at face value, especially if I can't interpret your emotions right away.”

Her understanding – and forgiveness of whatever he'd said that had upset her – did it. He gave in, leaning forward to kiss her a little more warmly than he had minutes earlier. He felt her mouth opening beneath his and slid his tongue along her lower lip, between her teeth and into a lazy duel with her own.

By his reckoning they should still have over an hour before her next cycle began, but that didn't mean they couldn't continue to explore one another's bodies in the interim. Her breasts, for example, had been woefully underutilized during their first two sexual encounters; would she let him...

Yes, yes she would. She'd risen to her knees at his urging, and his mouth had fastened itself to her left breast before he was conscious of lowering his head. His hands rested on her waist, tugging her slightly closer as he slid his tongue along her nipple, feeling it harden to his touch, even as he felt and scented Molly's growing arousal. It was different to the sharp tang her scent gained when her Heat spiked, softer, more mellow but no less exciting.

She was moaning now as he moved to her other breast, this time taking the nipple in his teeth and biting down lightly. Her hands slid up to his head and she dug her fingers into his curls, kneading his scalp in a manner he found highly pleasurable.

When she made as if to get out of the tub, however, he gently but firmly pressed her back into the warm water. “Not yet, you should stay in there until the water starts to cool,” he murmured, lips against her throat now, opposite to the wound he’d reopened in her throat during their first two bouts of lovemaking. That tender skin would no doubt be revisited again and again during the throes of Heat, until she was marked by a scar that only surgery could ever correct. Some Bonded pairs did that, to preserve their mates beauty, while other flaunted the scars proudly. He would ask Molly her preference…but later. When they were both fully in their right minds again.

As he nipped and nuzzled the tender skin just under her ear, he found his mind once again straying to the mark he’d made on the other side of her throat. It was a bit unsettling to realize that he hoped she would want to keep it, to discover he was almost as much a slave to his biology as any other Alpha who’d Bonded with his Omega, but then her lips were tugging at his ear lobe and her hands were sliding down to grasp his erection and his mind spontaneously short-circuited.

He gasped and bucked against her hands, nipping more sharply at her neck than he’d intended. Molly pulled back and stared at him through suddenly wary eyes; what was wrong? How odd, she was asking him the very same thing. “Sherlock? Is something wrong? Did I hurt you or…”

He shook his head. “God, no,” he gasped out. “Just…keep doing what you’re doing.” He dropped on hand to grasp the edge of the tub, anchoring the other against the back of her neck, and lowered his head to press another urgent kiss to her lips.

Her felt her smiling against his mouth before returning the kiss. She grasped his cock more firmly and began sliding her hand up and down against his heated flesh, her other hand resting on his shoulder. Then her fingers were digging in deeper as he once again returned to ravishing her throat and neck, lips and teeth and tongue against her collarbone before he lost all control and gasped out her name as he spilled over her hand.

He felt a distinct sense of pride emanating from her, and once he’d recovered enough to open his tightly shut eyes, he pulled his head back and frowned at her in mock displeasure. “Molly Hooper, you appear to have enjoyed that far more than a lady should.”

“Sherlock Holmes,” she replied, imitating his tone and expression but with a hint of an impish smile on her lips, “you appear to have enjoyed it as well, so if I were you, I would shut it and find a way to pay me back.”

Was that _challenge_ he heard in her voice? An Omega _challenging_ her Bonded Alpha? His lips curled in a snarl as he dug his fingers into her hair and yanked her forward so that their noses were almost touching. “Get out of the tub,” he growled. “ _Now_.”

She was moving before he’d finished speaking, scrambling out of the bath so quickly that water sloshed over the side and onto his legs. He ignored it, not even bothering to wipe off the sticky residue on his abdomen as he grabbed her by the hips and forcefully laid her on the tile floor. She yelped a bit at his harsh handling of her – or perhaps at the coldness of the tile against her warm flesh – but he ignored the sound, eyes darkening as he glowered at her. Her own eyes had gone wide with concern – not true fright, not yet, and not ever if he could help it – then snapped shut as he bent down, nudged her legs apart, and buried his face between her legs.

This time his goal wasn’t merely preparation; no, he fully intended to cause her to come completely undone with only his mouth. To hear her screaming his name while she dug her fingers into his scalp, while her body writhed and bucked beneath his until she was nothing but a limp, sodden mass. Challenge him, would she? Oh no, there was no way he would let that pass.

oOo

Molly could feel Sherlock’s outrage at her words through their ever-strengthening bond, and it thrilled and scared her in equal measures. She’d only meant to tease, but should have realized in their current state of emotional fragility that he would take her words as a challenge. She was out of the tub and flat on her back on the cool tile floor in seconds, sucking in a harsh breath as Sherlock’s fingers dug into her hips. She bit her lip and watched him through wary eyes, sucking in another breath as he suddenly dove between her legs, lifting her thighs and spreading them before his mouth latched onto her sex and his tongue – oh, God, that marvelous, clever tongue of his – drove deeply inside of her.

She whimpered and flailed a bit, not sure what to do with her hands, until one of them landed in his hair and she knew exactly what she should be doing with them. Her fingers dug into his scalp, tugging at those glorious dark curls, and he growled against her pussy and she gasped out his name as the sensations exploded over her body. Yes, he’d put his mouth and fingers on her private parts earlier, but this was different; then, she’d been focused only on getting him fully inside her, feeling his cock filling her and wanting, needing his Knot and cum to bring her to fulfillment. Now, during the ebb tide of Heat, she could focus on how fucking wonderful his mouth and tongue felt, the way he unerringly sought out and found her clit and licked it with precisely the right amount of pressure to bring her screaming over the edge.

She went limp, eyes shut tight, body shuddering with a series of delicious aftershocks as Sherlock lay down next to her. She should have known cuddling wasn’t on the agenda, however, and found herself gasping in surprise, her eyes flying open as she felt him yank her by the hair, pulling her head back and exposing her throat to his view.

When her eyes met his, he lowered his face until they were once again nose to nose. “Don’t ever challenge me like that, Molly. Never again. I pride myself on my self control, but clearly until the Bond between us has been fully established I will be more sensitive to my Alpha nature, less able to rein in my instincts. Yes, it could simply be due to the heightened emotions brought on by your Heat, but I suspect we will both find ourselves having to adjust to the changes that are still occurring in our bodies. Do I make myself clear?”

Yes, she was an Omega, and yes, he was her Bondmate and an Alpha, so her first instinct was to submit fully to him. But she’d lived her life as a Beta, dammit, had fought to rise above her biology and so faced an internal struggle as she tamped down on her desire to snap at him. She was no one’s slave; hadn’t he rescued her from that prison because he felt the same way?

She knew her mixed emotions must be pouring through the Bond, but interestingly enough he did nothing, said nothing, simply watched and waited for her response. His own emotions were fairly easy to read; tension, the instinctive need to dominate, a faint hint of worry, even, but underlying it all a strong sense that he needed her to understand that he _wasn’t_ like all the other Alphas she’d ever met, that he meant exactly what he was saying to her and nothing more.

He was, in short, coming as close as any strong Alpha could to pleading for her understanding. For her patience with him – asking her not to add to the emotional burden he was currently struggling with. Just as she was always struggling with her own instincts. And yes, the Heat was intensifying everything, but until the hormones overwhelmed her again she was still a thinking, reasoning being. 

Her response was a simple nod; he’d eased his grip on her hair and she was able to turn her head and willingly offer him her throat to emphasize her capitulation to him.

Well, her capitulation to him for now. Later, once the Heat had finally run its course, the two of them were going to have a long, detailed conversation about their expectations for one another. As his mouth descended to her throat, the tension flowing out of his body as he nipped at her pulse point in ritualistic acceptance of her submission to him, all she could think about was how gloriously tempestuous things were bound to be between them.

He’d told her she was nor ordinary Omega, and she knew he was certainly no ordinary Alpha. Those two simple facts were going to keep things very, very interesting between the two of them for a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued in "Blazes" which will be posted when the muse once again drags me to this universe.


End file.
